Home Again

by Fisher, Lisa

  “Hey, Aisley.”

  “Hey, Brad.” I smiled at them, taking off the hat and glasses. “And this must be Karen.”

  “Hi.” She smiled shyly and hid behind her dad’s leg.

  I stood up, offering them the booth and scooting in beside John.

  “Your dad’s been telling me all about you, Karen,” I said.

  “He has?” Her eyes bugged out of her head and she looked over at her dad in awe.

  “Yep.” I smiled.

  “Who’s he?” Karen pointed to John.

  “Don’t mind John.” I winked. “He’s just my chaperone.”

  “Like on a field trip?”

  “Not quite. See Aisley is so popular that sometimes people get too close, and John, here, keeps them from hurting her,” Brad explained.

  “Oh. So more like a superhero,” Karen decided. John grinned. Who would have thought that big, burly, boxer John would have such a soft spot for kids? We studied the menu for a few minutes, each deciding what we wanted.

  Even though I didn’t want it, I chose a cheeseburger and French fries.

  “What can we get started for you?” My head snapped up, hearing his voice.

  “Aisley,” Easton said, shocked.

  “Hey.”

  East looked between us, and gave me a weird look before letting a smile settle on his face.

  “Sorry, I’m being rude. Easton, I think you remember Brad from the other night? Meet Brad’s daughter, Karen. Karen, this is my good friend, Easton.”

  She stuck her hand out politely, waiting for him to shake it. Easton gave the girl a big lopsided grin, taking her tiny hand in his. “It’s very nice to meet you, Karen. Any friend of Aisley’s, is a friend of mine.”

  “She’s so cool, huh?” Karen beamed.

  I smiled to Brad, and he mouthed ‘thank you’ back.

  “Yeah,” Easton replied. “She’s pretty cool.”

  After ordering, and getting our food, we talked mostly about Karen and how she was in the second grade—starting in the Fall—and how this boy, Jimmy Tersely, always teased her on the playground last year. And how she hoped he would be nicer next year.

  That reminded me of when East and I were second graders. He was relentless, always chasing Becks and me around the playground. That whole year I had a love-hate relationship with him. Some days he was the sweetest little kid on the planet. Other days, he was the biggest bully I knew.

  “So what’s it like on TV?” Karen asked, sipping on her chocolate milk.

  I giggled. “It’s pretty fun. I love to sing.”

  “Me, too. I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

  “That’s sweet. I’ll bet you have a beautiful voice.”

  Karen blushed. “Yeah, well, Jimmy says I sound like a frog.”

  “I’ll bet Jimmy is just jealous.” I winked.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  When we were finished eating and it was time to go, Karen gave me a huge hug. Then, she moved past me and hugged John, too, which made me giggle.

  “If it’s okay with your dad, I bet I could get you tickets to the show in Seattle.”

  “Oh my gosh!” she squealed so loud that I thought she ruptured my eardrums.

  “Karen, shh,” Brad scolded. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  “Does that mean I can go, Dad? Please?”

  Brad nodded, and Karen jumped up and down. “Thank you, thank you!”

  “You’re welcome, but you should probably thank the girl who’s giving them to you.” He chuckled.

  She gave me a toothy grin. “Thanks, Aisley.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you guys around. Be good for your Dad, okay?”

  ***

  I weighed myself again as soon as I got home. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do. I knew that.

  115

  The scale was taunting me.

  I shouldn’t have had a burger at lunch. I should have had the salad, instead. Hell, I should be working out right now, trying to stay in shape for the tour.

  Fuckity-fuck. My mind was starting to wander to that bad place again. The one that got me here. “Grraaahhh,” I yelled at my reflection in the mirror incoherently.

  I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I’m not fat, I’m healthy. Repeating those stupid words made me feel like a fucking lunatic, even if it was just in my head. Splashing some cool water on my face, I told myself to chill out, just chill.

  “Aisley, sweetie?” Mom knocked on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Your dad and I are going out to dinner, want to come with?”

  I swung the door open and my mom stared me down as if I were in there puking my guts out. I wasn’t bulimic, for Christ’s sake. “Sorry, Mom. I have plans.”

  She gave me the same look she did when I first showed up. The verbal ass-whooping one. “Aisley Marie Carter. I saw that you didn’t eat breakfast this morning! Did you eat lunch? You’re looking too skinny. Get your ass out of the bathroom. You’re coming to dinner. No is not an answer. End of story.”

  I sighed. “No.”

  “Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Yes, Mother, but you worry too much.”

  “I worry too much? How do you think I felt getting a call from the hospital, telling me my only daughter was being admitted because she fainted on stage? How do you think I felt the second time, Aisley? After the first time, we should have known it was more than just exhaustion. I’m your Mother, I should have known.” Mom wiped a few tears away. “So don’t tell me I worry too much. It’s my job to worry too much.”

  Fuck. “I’m sorry.” I officially felt like the world’s worst daughter. “But I still can’t go to dinner with you and Dad. I have plans with Easton.”

  Her head snapped up in surprise. “Easton? Everson?”

  “You know any other Easton’s?”

  “No. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you guys still talked.”

  “We just started… talking again.”

  “That’s great, honey. He was always such a nice boy.”

  “Yeah. So, is it okay if I skip dinner with you guys?”

  “As long as you’re eating with him.”

  “Yes, Mom. I will eat, and I had lunch, too. Ask John.”

  “I’m sure you know John’s not allowed to tell me a thing. Have fun with Easton, dear. Tell him to stop by sometime, and I’ll make him some of his favorite brownies.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, sweetie. Be careful.”

  ***

  Wearing a purple sundress, and some cowgirl boots, I felt a little weird dressing up. I wasn’t sure where we were going, so I wasn’t sure what was appropriate.

  It was eight-fifteen.

  Easton would be here to pick me soon. His butterflies came before he did, but that was no surprise to me. They were good company, fluttering inside me, because they made me think of East.

  And East was all I wanted to think about tonight.

  Not the paparazzi, not leaving in less than seven weeks, and definitely not my weight.

  Just East.

  “Do you have to come with us tonight?” I looked over at John, who was engrossed in a National Geographic magazine, sitting on the couch.

  He snorted. “Do you have to keep pacing like that?”

  “Do you have to answer my question with a question?”

  John rolled his eyes. “Yes. Don’t ask me stupid questions. No matter what, it’s my job to come with you.”

  I huffed. “Are you allowed to tell people stuff about me?” I asked, thinking about what my mom said earlier.

  He set the magazine down. “I signed the same type of agreement I passed out to all of your friends the other night, so no. I’m legally bound to keep my mouth shut. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  He eyed me suspiciously.

  “Stop looking at me like that. I was jus
t curious,” I lied.

  The doorbell rang, and I had to stop myself from squealing like Karen did earlier.

  “Just try to be cool,” John joked, and then standing up, ready to go.

  “Shut up! I’m cool as a cucumber.” And that was the lamest thing I had heard in a very long time. I opened the door, revealing East, dressed a little fancier than usual in a button down shirt, and his signature blue jeans. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He smiled back. “You look beautiful tonight, Aisley.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ready?”

  I nodded, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence.

  He linked his arm through mine and led me to his car. It was the same one he had when I left, a blue Ford Focus. “I see you’ve still got your baby, too,” I joked.

  “Oh yeah, me and Becks are old school.” He winked.

  I couldn’t help it… I swooned. Hopelessly hopeless for this green-eyed boy.

  He opened the door for me, and then turned to John. “Sorry, man, you’ll have to open your own.”

  John just grunted, and got in. He must hate this part of the job—being the third wheel on dates.

  I turned to East. “Where are we going?”

  “I thought we could grab a bite to eat, then there’s this old movie playing in the park.”

  “Oh, I already ate,” I lied.

  John made a rude noise from the backseat, and I turned around, giving him a sharp look.

  “Oh… did you forget about our date?” Easton asked, taken aback.

  “No, my parents’ just like to force feed me on occasion.” I laughed. Liar.

  “Well, if you’re not hungry we can just get to the show early and grab a good seat. They have this great hot dog stand set up for the summer. I can just eat there.”

  “Sounds great.” John kicked the back of my seat, and I made sure to ignore him. He wasn’t allowed to say a word, so I wouldn’t worry about what he thought.

  There were about twenty other people already there, complete with lawn chairs or blankets. East grabbed two big blankets from the trunk. He tossed one to John, who mumbled thank you, and kept ahold of the second one.

  “Where do you want to sit, babe?” East put his hand on the small of my back, leading me through the small crowd of people.

  “How about we sit in our spot?”

  “I didn’t think you’d remember,” he said, shocked.

  “East, we’ve been going to these shows for eight years. There’s no way I could forget.” I gave him a knowing look. Even if it were only one day, I wouldn’t forget any time I spent next to Easton.

  We walked up the hillside, to the same spot, under the same tree we sat every time we came to a summer movie. Sometimes, it was the three of us. Sometimes, just East and me. Every now and then, when we were in a fight, I’d come alone—but no matter what, I always sat here.

  He laid out the blanket. “Here, I’m gonna go grab a hotdog. Want anything? Popcorn? Candy?”

  “No thanks, I’m okay.”

  “What the hell are you doing, kid?” John said, once Easton was out of earshot.

  “Nothing.”

  “Why are you lying to him?”

  “It’s none of your business, John.”

  “Maybe not, but Aisley, what you’re doing isn’t right. You’re going to end up—”

  “Thanks for the lecture, dad,” I replied sarcastically. “But I think I’ll be fine. It’s just one dinner.”

  John sighed.

  “Just remember, you’re legally bound to keep your mouth shut.”

  “How could I forget?”

  I cringed at the way he said it, knowing that what he was saying was true. I shouldn’t lie to East, but I also shouldn’t be restricting my diet either.

  When East came back with his hotdog, I was suddenly aware of how hungry I was. On tour, it was easy to skip meals. I was so busy, half the time I didn’t even think about it, but now that I wasn’t always moving, I was painfully aware of my empty stomach, filled only with those relentless little butterflies.

  “Want a bite?”

  “Eww, no. Did you put a pound of ketchup on that? Gross!”

  “It’s good, Carter. You should try it.”

  “No way. You know how I feel about that poison.”

  He chuckled. “Oh yeah. I forgot how weird you are,” he said between bites. “You know, you don’t eat very much.”

  “I eat,” I said quickly. “Besides, you know I hate ketchup.”

  He gave me a sideways look, but didn’t say anything else.

  “I used to love coming to these things,” I said after a minute.

  “Yeah, we had a lot of fun here.”

  I blushed, thinking back to the first time East and I came here as an official couple.

  “What are you thinking about, Carter?”

  “Just about how weird it is, calling you my boyfriend.”

  He laughed. “It sounds good to me, beautiful.”

  My face flushed, the butterflies took flight. “I—” Whatever I was about to say was cut off by Easton’s perfect lips on mine, kissing the words right out of my mouth.

  “You make me really happy, Ais.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth, green eyes.” If only he knew how true that was.

  If he were love, I would never let him go.

  “What are you thinking about, Carter?” he asked, taking the last bite of his hotdog.

  I smiled, feeling déjà vu. “Just about when we came here sophomore year.”

  “Which time?”

  I shoved his shoulder playfully. “The first one after we started dating.”

  “Oh, yeah. That was one of my favorite movies.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re such punk. You didn’t watch one scene of that movie. Can you even tell me what it was?” I laughed.

  “Honey, if you expected a sixteen year old boy to pay attention to anything else—when he’s with the most beautiful girl on this planet—you’re expecting way too much.”

  Blushing, I gave him a half smile. “To be honest, I didn’t watch it, either.”

  “I know, babe. It’s hard to watch a movie when someone as handsome as this, has his tongue down your throat.”

  “You’re such a nerd. A cocky one, too.”

  “Not cocky, just very confident in my abilities.”

  “Riiight.” I shook my head at him. “You were an inexperienced sixteen year old, East. I wouldn’t get too confident,” I joked.

  He feigned hurt. “Does that mean I wasn’t any good?”

  I shrugged nonchalantly. “Who was a good kisser at sixteen?”

  He gasped and rolled on top of me. “You’re such a brat, Aisley Carter.”

  I wiggled beneath him, holding in a laugh.

  “I guess if I were so bad at sixteen, we need a do-over.” He brought his lips down to mine, just barely touching. Teasing me in the worst way. But instead of kissing me, he brought his hands to my sides and started to mercilessly tickle me.

  “East, stop! Stop!”

  When East decided I’d had enough, he rolled over beside me and laced my fingers through his. “I’m glad you’re home, Carter.”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth, green eyes.”

  ***

  Chapter 8

  I hated that I was forced to be here. Somehow, Devin found out about group therapy, and actually thought it would be good for me.

  Cue desperate laughter.

  So here I was.

  And if ever there were a place worse than home, this was it. In this scuzzy Seattle building, with its dirty white walls and ugly blue carpet. There was nothing comforting about this place. I was seated in a room with four other girls and the counselor, whose name was Jamie. Our chairs were laid out in a circle, and I found my eyes darting from person to person, trying to figure each one of them out. Dr. Tinsley told me they all had problems like mine, but looking around the room, I couldn’t find one similarity. T
hese were all people who either didn’t eat, or ate too much, then purged. These people didn’t have a logical reason for it. They had eating disorders. I had to keep my weight low for my job. We were just living in two different worlds. Why was I the only one who saw it?

  “I want you to all take your notebooks out, and write down something for me,” Jamie said.

  I looked at the other four girls, who were staring intently at Jamie, waiting for further instruction. This was stupid. Why was I here again?

  Oh, right. Because I needed to do everything I could to get my job back.

  Just play along, Ais, and you’ll be back to making music.

  “Write down one thing you like about yourself, and one thing that makes you feel insecure about yourself.”

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I started writing.

  I like that I can play the guitar.

  Okay, so maybe that was a dumb thing to like about myself.

  Cameras make me feel insecure.

  They captured everything. Then they magnified your flaws, and I had many of those.

  Like my weight.

  I’m not fat, I’m healthy. I wanted to throw this stupid notebook in the trash and never look at it again. And I wanted to forget those five words that were somehow ingrained in my memory.

  I wanted a lot of things, but mostly I just wanted to feel okay again.

  Instantly, I felt claustrophobic. I had to get out of here. I shut the notebook, and stood up quickly. All heads turned. So much for a subtle exit. I met Jamie’s eyes for a split second, before walking straight out the door without a look back.

  Group therapy? Yeah, no thanks.

  ***

  Monday mornings officially sucked.

  “Tell me about your week, Ms. Carter,” Dr. Tinsley said, notebook in hand.

  “Pretty uneventful,” I lied.

  “Did you catch up with any old friends?”

  I shrugged. What did my social life have to do with anything? “Yeah, a few.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  My face instantly flushed, thinking about Easton. “I’d rather not.”

  “I see.” She jotted something in her notebook.

  “I just like my privacy, that’s all.”

  “I understand, but you do know that everything you say to me is completely confidential, right?”

  “That’s never stopped anyone before,” I muttered.